dream files
by wild wolf free17
Summary: a collection of drabbles, Arthur/Eames, mostly crossovers
1. we are the dreamers of dreams

**Title**: we are the dreamers of dreams

**Fandom**: Inception/Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: future!fic for film; vague spoilers for SN

**Pairings**: pre-Arthur/Eames

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 470

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Inception, Arthur/Eames, Eames is an actual shapeshifter

* * *

There's a reason Eames is the best forger that dreamsharing has ever seen.

Most of his kind stick to the shadows, work alone, and try to avoid notice. Eames found, though, that trying to stay hidden means more people will discover what one doesn't want discovered, so he's making a name for himself and the only secrets that will be outed are the secrets he wants outed.

And maybe a few of his own, those sad and sorry creatures, will be angry, but not a single one of them will have the courage to endanger themselves just to get to him.

o0o

Arthur is the most dangerous thing Eames has ever seen.

Arthur isn't like him; he's something else, something _more_, and Eames is fascinated because he can tell Arthur doesn't know.

The first time Eames goes into Arthur's dreams, it is a ghost town and Eames can find nothing. He asks Cobb, in a roundabout way, and learns that Arthur's mind only ever shows what he wants it to show.

Well, Eames can relate to that.

o0o

After the Fischer job, they all go their separate ways. Eames is fine with that; he's on to the next great adventure.

He has a dream one night, not long after, of Arthur laughing on a bridge before throwing himself off. In the dream, Eames followed and he woke after he hit the water, when he was scrambling for Arthur's hand to pull him to the surface.

o0o

"Mr. Eames," Arthur says, a week after that nightmare, appearing suddenly in the chair across from Eames.

Eames knows he's awake, the same way he's always known.

"Yes, Arthur?" he asks, flicking a poker chip from one finger to the next.

Arthur hesitates a moment. Eames waits, allows Arthur to study his face, to take a slow breath, to gather his words.

"There's a man," Arthur begins. "In my dreams, whether I'm using the PASIV or not." Another hesitation, but Eames stays silent. "He has yellow eyes."

Eames hasn't kept up with the news from his kind, but he knows who Arthur means and he sucks in a sharp breath.

And Arthur is not a fool. He'd have done some research, found out about that business in America, and he'd only come to Eames for one reason.

"He's dead, Arthur, to the best of my knowledge."

Arthur nods. "I did discover that, but it doesn't change the fact that he's in my dreams and telling me things I'd really rather have not known."

Eames looks at him for a long moment, and Arthur looks back.

"To America, then?" Eames asks.

Arthur nods again.

o0o

Eames wonders sometimes what might have been, if that stupid yellow-eyed fucker hadn't been so wrapped up in that Winchester kid.

He figures they're all better off that he didn't focus on Arthur as his champion.


	2. a door like fire

**Title**: the past and the future are a door like fire

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Donald Platt

**Warnings**: limbo!fic

**Pairings**: gennish with Eames/Arthur leanings

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 295

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Notes**: partially inspired by this

http: / community. livejournal. com/ eames_arthur/ 503752. html

* * *

i

_Darling… _

_Go to sleep, Mr. Eames _

He had a name once, back when the sky was blue and blood was red, he had a name and he thinks it was his own (forever and ever days and weeks and months ago years and years forever), he had a name.

The flowers talk sometimes, when no one else is around, and no one else is ever around because he's alone (alone always alone alone alone forever no way home).

There is a desert to the northsoutheastwest, everywhere and nowhere, all around and through and above and below him. Sometimes it's so cold he sees his breath, except when it's so hot he melts.

Sometimes he remembers a name that he's sure is not his own, and he'll scream and scream and scream, but no one ever answers because no one else is here at all.

(he's dreaming)

(is he dreaming?)

(what's a dream?)

_Darling…_

_Go to sleep, Mr. Eames_

(wake up)

(wake up?)

(wake up!)

He turns north (to the mountains) south (to the oceans) east (to the sun) west (to the moon) and there is someone calling a name.

(His name?)

He listens to the new sound, to the difference after hoursdaysyearseons of monotony. He listens in wonder, in joy—the voice is familiar. He yells back nonsense, just to hear his own voice echo off the sky.

Silence, and then the name comes again, filling the air and the caverns, soaring over the clouds and under the ocean, and he screams, launching himself upwards, searching and seeking and certain that finally, there might be a way home.

(His name!)

Past the oceans, past the mountains, into the sun and out of the moon, there is a man.

_Darling…_

_Wake up, Mr. Eames_

i


	3. the other side of silence

**Title**: the other side of silence

**Disclaimer**: only Aunt Maddy is mine

**Warnings**: mostly pre-movie; implied child abuse

**Pairings**: pre-Arthur/Eames

**Rating**: PG  
**Wordcount**: 560

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: stutter

* * *

The boy Arthur used to be had a stutter once. It was just after Mama died and Dad left. Aunt Maddy took him in and told him everything would be alright and didn't let Dad see him, no matter how loudly Dad yelled. He felt safe with Aunt Maddy.

When he told her he didn't like his name, she asked what he wanted instead.

Mama used to tell him about a king and a round table full of equals, so he told Aunt Maddy that he wanted to be Arthur from now on.

Aunt Maddy smiled at him and he was Arthur forever after.

He went back to school two months after he became Arthur, a week later than the other fourth graders. He discovered that he hated to be the center of attention, loved math because it made perfect sense, and couldn't say a complete sentence without his tongue tumbling all over itself.

By his third week at school, Arthur only spoke when asked a direct question. He ignored his fellow students and most of his instructors. In return, the kids mocked him and the teachers thought he had home problems.

Aunt Maddy set them straight, of course, but she also asked him what was wrong. He talked just fine at home, she said, so why was it such a big deal at school?

Arthur had no idea, and he was embarrassed, and he knew if he didn't overcome it, Aunt Maddy would send him away.

(Looking back, he knows Aunt Maddy would've kept him no matter what. But as the little boy he used to be, he knew only that people left, whether or not he wanted them go.)

Aunt Maddy took Arthur places to see if he could talk there. They discovered quickly that he could speak with no problems only to her.

He felt embarrassed, and young, and like such a failure, the ten-year-old with no parents who could barely talk.

But Aunt Maddy simply kissed his forehead and told him firmly that everything would be alright.

A month after that, on the way to dinner to celebrate a presentation he made with only a few stumbles, their car was hit by a truck that jumped the median. Aunt Maddy died immediately. Arthur had four broken ribs, a leg broke in two places, and an arm broke in three. He was awake for the whole thing and didn't talk for over a year.

When he finally did speak again, he didn't stutter once.

o0o

They train in Arthur's mind because his subconscious security is nearly impossible to beat. This one time, Eames sneaks under while Cobb dies and Ariadne tries to bluff her way out. At the center of the maze, he finds a cheerful yellow house and a dark-haired woman who offers him tea. She introduces him to her nephew, a bright-eyed boy with dimples who chatters at Eames until it's time to wake up.

"Well done, Mr. Eames," Arthur says when he opens his eyes.

Eames will never tell anyone what he discovered. Eventually, he'll ask Arthur and Arthur will look at him quietly for a long moment, refill their drinks, and say, "Her name was Maddy. When we met, I wasn't Arthur yet."

Eames will listen and once Arthur falls silent, he'll take him to bed and never let him go.


	4. rolling a three

**Title**: rolling a three

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: pre-movie

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 280

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Inception, Arthur(/Eames)+ Team, When Arthur was little, the die used to actually belong to a game.

* * *

Arthur's uncle, the man who raised him, used to love Trivial Pursuit. They moved around a great deal, though, and so parts of the game got left in a dozen different cities.

(As a kid, Uncle Danny told Arthur they were explorers, adventures, spies. Saving the world, the country, the girl, seeing all there is to see and more, always more. As a man, Arthur knows that Uncle Danny owed some very bad people a large sum of money he didn't have.)

Arthur stole notepads from various teachers' desks and made Trivial Pursuit questions out of dictionaries and encyclopedias. He cannibalized checkers and chess sets for the players' pieces. He cut up plastic ware to make the little containers for the pie slices. The die, though, his uncle already had, and Arthur snuck it into the box the night before his uncle's birthday.

Uncle Danny acted like it was the best present he ever received and they played it every week for the next six months, and neither of them cared they only ever rolled threes.

But then the bad people caught up and Uncle Danny dropped Arthur off at school like it was a normal day, and he promised to take Arthur for ice-cream that afternoon, and Arthur had no idea that was the last time he'd see Uncle Danny.

Arthur walked home because Uncle Danny didn't pick him up. All their belongings were still there and there was no note, no scrap of paper to explain, but Arthur has always been brilliant so he figured it out.

He left everything except a duffle of clothes and a backpack of pictures and a red die that always rolled three.


	5. high tide and the heron dived

**Title**: High tide and the heron dived when I took the road over the border

**Fandom**: Inception

**Disclaimer**: Arthur, Eames, and the Inception 'verse are not my creations; title from Dylan Thomas

**Warnings**: somewhat disturbing content; takes place in limbo

**Pairings**: Arthur/Eames

**Rating**: PG13

**Wordcount**: 2190

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: fudge

* * *

There is a small sweets shop Arthur goes to once a day. The woman behind the counter is faceless, and so is the man sitting at the only table. The woman never speaks but to ask his order and tell him the price; the man says _good mornin'_ or _good afternoon_. Arthur doesn't know their names.

He orders peanut butter fudge and overpays. Each time is the same. He thanks the woman, nods to the man, and leaves, box of fudge held carefully in his hands.

Arthur takes his fudge to a hill just outside of town. He walks for five minutes and passes a small ocean with dolphins, but he ignores their antics. They drowned him once. He doesn't like them anymore. The hill has a weeping willow, a puddle at the base of its trunk, a trashcan he never empties but also never completely fills, and a bench of amber. It reminds him of a place he was once, but he doesn't remember where or when. It was a long time ago.

He settles on the bench and watches the horizon. It catches fire sometimes, and sometimes movies play, _The Lord of the Rings_ trilogy, or the third _Indiana Jones_, or _Up_. He likes it best when _Up_ plays.

Arthur eats his fudge in precise, neat bites. He carefully licks his finger to collect the small crumbs on his pants. Once all the fudge is gone, Arthur sets the empty box on the bench and stays until whichever movies is playing finishes, throws away the box, and goes to his apartment. He walks past a desert to get there; he ignores the bones now. He doesn't know what or who died there, but the vultures ripped him apart when he explored. He doesn't go there anymore.

Arthur's apartment is small, with only a bed, a shower, and a toilet. He wears the same shirt, waistcoat, and slacks everyday and they never get dirty, and he sleeps naked. When he's not at the sweets shop, bench, or apartment, he wanders. He's looking for something, but he's forgotten what, so now he just walks. There are buildings and faceless people and dolphins and vultures. There are mountains and deserts and oceans. He tried to go through all three at one point or another. His mountain death was the easiest, so he tried there again. He gave up long ago, though.

The only food he ever eats is peanut butter fudge. He showers right before bed and doesn't care anymore that the showerhead only sprays blood. It rains once a week, and that's blood, too. He stays in that day and doesn't get his fudge. That's the only time he's ever hungry.

o0o

One day when Arthur goes to the sweets shop, there is a second man sitting at the table. He has a face, and he smiles at Arthur. He watches Arthur order his fudge and he follows Arthur past the ocean to the bench on the hill, where he sits next to Arthur. He's still smiling.

"Nice spot," he says.

Arthur ignores him. The sky catches fire.

"I can see why you come here," the man says. His voice is familiar, and comforting, and Arthur wants to fall into it forever. He can trust that voice, and he isn't sure how he knows.

He ignores the man, eating his fudge in precise bites.

"Come now, Arthur," the man says. "Give me a nibble, yeah?" There is desperation in his voice, nearly hidden by forced joviality. Arthur wants to comfort him, but he refuses the impulse.

The man is new. Like the dolphins were new, and the vultures had been new, and the quicksand that sucked him down in the mountains. Arthur can't trust anything in this town, and that includes himself. And this stranger, with his soothing voice and warm eyes.

Warm things burn. Arthur learned that a long time ago, before he came here. But he learned it here, too.

"Arthur, please," the man says.

Arthur finishes his fudge and stands, deposits the empty box in the trash, and leaves.

This time, the man doesn't follow.

o0o

The next day, the man with a face is waiting at the bench. Arthur wonders what he wants. He thinks about taking his fudge somewhere else. Whoever this man is, he'll be trouble. He has a face. No one here has a face except Arthur. Not in all the time he's been here, and it's been a very long time. So where did this man come from?

He looks at Arthur with such hope. Arthur looks back in wonder. This man has a face, and it's so interesting. So expressive, as he stares at Arthur. Scruff along his jawline, like Arthur hasn't had since before the dolphins. Eyes Arthur doesn't want to look away from. Lips he can imagine tasting—and he settles next to the man with a face and asks, "Would you like some fudge?"

"Yes, Arthur," he says. "Indeed, I would."

He doesn't know how the man learned his name. He decides, as the sky starts to play _The Last Crusade_, that he doesn't care. The man mumbles comments at him, and laughs aloud, and smiles at Arthur. He smiles so much. Arthur could get used to it, but it'll hurt even more when the man leaves.

"Arthur," the man says after the movie ends and Arthur drops the empty fudge box in the trash. Arthur turns to look at him and the man says, "Arthur, do you know my name?"

Arthur shakes his head. "Sorry."

The man smiles again. "It'll come to you, darling."

They spend the day together. Arthur shows him the safety bounds and explains about the dangers. He walks Arthur to his apartment and Arthur asks, "Where are you staying?" It's dangerous at night. He'll need a good door.

"Don't worry," the man says. "I'll find somewhere."

Arthur wants to invite him in, to wrap himself up in the man's strong body, to learn everything about him. But he doesn't say the words and the man caresses his cheek and says, "I'll see tomorrow, Arthur."

His dreams are easy that night, about falling into the sky.

o0o

Arthur's new routine includes the man with a face. They meet at the bench, share the fudge (Arthur buys more, now), watch the sky or a movie, and then wander.

The man convinces him to try the mountains again and they die together. It's wonderful.

Weeks pass and Arthur asks him to spend the night.

The man smiles. "Do you know my name, darling?"

Arthur shakes his head, murmurs, "I'm sorry."

"It'll come to you," the man says and he kisses Arthur's cheek before leaving.

He dreams that night, of the man shooting strangers, of changing his face, of laughing and smirking and crying. Of the man dying, and begging Arthur to end it.

Of the man reaching for Arthur as Arthur fell, and screaming—_I'll find you! Arthur, you hear me? I'll find you…_

Arthur wakes, a name on his tongue, but when he goes to say it, it faded away.

o0o

He doesn't tell the man about his dream. Doesn't mention that he thinks they knew each other before this place (which he's pretty sure the man already knew, anyway).

The man asks at the bench, "You ever hope that the dolphins and vultures will kill each other so we can get out of here?"

Five weeks ago, Arthur would've said, "There's nothing beyond the desert, past the ocean, over the mountains." He would've known he was lying even as he uttered the words.

But now he looks at the man and he says, "Tell me your name. Please."

The man says, "Darling, I can't. You have to remember. That's how it works."

Arthur punches him. The man recovers and lunges for him, but Arthur ducks, jerking out of reach. "I know you!" Arthur yells. "How the fuck do I know you?"

The man laughs, catching himself before he over-balances and giving Arthur a look so fond he blushes. "You'll remember, Arthur. I have faith in you."

And Arthur wants to ask about the dream.

The man holds out a hand. "Arthur," he says. "Let me take you to bed."

Arthur stares at him, at his eyes and his lips, and the breadth of his shoulders. "I don't know your name," he says.

The man strides to him and grabs his shoulders, gently shaking him. "You'll remember, Arthur," he says, leaning close, till they're breath to breath. "I know you will," he whispers, and then there's no space left between them.

o0o

He dreams of falling, and the man's hands, and his voice—_I'll find you I'll find you I'll find you_.

"You found me," he says, breathing the words into the man's neck.

"I did," he replies, mostly asleep. "D'you know m'name?"

Arthur closes his eyes and clutches him closer and thinks, _I don't_.

o0o

They stay in bed that day, watching the rain through the window. It stains the world red. They shower; Arthur doodles on the man's back, designing things in blood.

"'s'tickles," he mutters, pressing Arthur against the wall and demanding a kiss.

Arthur can't remember a time he was so happy. Life was empty until the man with a face showed up at the sweets shop.

" I wish I could remember your name," he says as the man takes him back to bed.

o0o

More weeks pass. Arthur dreams about the man every night, of falling and promises, and he finally tells the man one day, while they watch the horizon burn.

"You do remember me," the man says, kissing peanut butter out of his mouth. "So you'll remember my name."

It's on his tongue again, with the peanut butter and the man's own taste. With how he always smells like salt and gunpowder, even in dreams. With his strong hands and gentle caress, unless Arthur wants rough, and somehow, the man always knows. He's perfectly imperfect, and he's waiting, and Arthur knows he knows the name. He's dreamt himself saying it, breathing it, screaming it. But he can't remember when he wakes, when he's in the man's arms or beneath his body, walking around sharing this odd city.

"I know you," he says, wanting to cry in defeat.

"You'll remember," the man promises, with a caressing kiss. "I'll wait till you do."

o0o

And they're running from the vultures, and the man is laughing, and Arthur watches his grin, and Arthur says, "_Eames_."

Eames freezes, whirling to stare at him. The world shakes, the sky cracking and the dirt shuddering beneath their feet.

"I'm dreaming," Arthur says. "Limbo."

He knows. He remembers everything, the job that went very much south and Arthur had to choose between himself and his crew.

Eames nearly caught him as he fell, but Arthur let go, and Eames' voice followed him down—_I'll find you I'll find you I'll find I'll find you._

"Eames," he says. "You fucking _idiot_. What are you doing here?"

"Arthur," Eames says. "Arthur!" He pulls Arthur in for a massive hug, and the world splits wide open.

o0o

Arthur falls upwards, Eames wrapped around him, through three layers of dreams. And he wakes with a gasp in their mark's office, a businessman whose secrets he got lost trying to find.

Eames is at his side before he's finished blinking, saying, "ArthurArthurArthur," and Arthur grabs his hand.

"You found me," he says. "You goddamned _lunatic_, don't you _ever_ take that risk again."

Their architect, Sarafina, smiles and waits a moment to say, "We have to leave."

Arthur nods and stretches before standing and packing the PASIV away. "I'll meet you," he tells Eames.

Eames scoffs. "You're not leavin' my sight," he informs Arthur. "Perhaps not ever again."

Arthur doesn't argue. Boscoe, the extractor, takes the PASIV and the four of them discreetly exit the building. Eames follows Arthur.

"I'm hungry," he tells Eames as they walk down the street. "And I want a shower that isn't in blood."

"I know an excellent hotel," Eames says. "I'll order everything on the menu and wash every part of you in water so hot you'll barely stand it." He smiles at Arthur, and Arthur notes all the faces that go by, all the words they say.

There is no desert, no ocean, no mountains. No vultures, no dolphins. And Eames is next to him, talking about anything that catches his fancy.

o0o

Once they're in the room, food ordered and hot water running, Eames pulls Arthur close. He simply holds him, and he whispers, "Do you know my name?"

Arthur smiles at him and kisses his neck before murmuring a name that only Eames' mother remembers anymore.

Eames laughs and pulls Arthur into the shower.

o0o

If Arthur dreams that night, he doesn't remember, and he wakes saying, "EamesEamesEames."

And Eames orders them breakfast and they stay in all day, and Arthur swears he'll never again eat fudge.

"Never?" Eames asks.

"Not even once," Arthur promises, and drags Eames back into the tub for the longest, most luxurious soak of his life.


	6. the glint of light on broken glass

**Title**: the glint of light on broken glass

**Fandom**: _Inception/Counterfeit Son_

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: spoilers for Counterfeit Son; implied child abuse/sexual abuse

**Pairings**: implied Arthur/Eames

**Rating**: PG13

**Wordcount**: 1570

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Notes**: thanks to nevcolleil for convincing me to post

**More notes**: knowledge of _Counterfeit Son_'s canon would be helpful but isn't necessary; this can be read as an outside pov on Arthur's backstory

* * *

Diana wasn't surprised that Neil went far away for college. He was smothered at home, and four years of so-called normalcy couldn't make up for six years in Hell. He still flinched from Dad sometimes, and he was too still and too quiet. With them, Diana knew, with Mom and Dad and Stevie and Diana herself, he was always Cameron-as-Neil. In his mind, he was still Cameron pretending to be Neil, and it didn't matter that all the tests said he was Neil, had always been Neil, that Dad knew him from the moment he saw Neil in the hospital bed.

He still felt like Cameron, trying to survive.

Diana blamed Simmons for that. She would never forgive him for terrifying Neil just after Miller's death. She saw the scars on her brother's skin and the ones on his psyche, and hacked what she could about those horrible years he was Cameron. And Simmons—he was supposed to be a cop and help victims, and instead he persecuted a little boy whose only crime was surviving.

Diana had to help Neil with his homework those first few months of school. She was actually glad he'd been put in the same grade as her—it meant she could keep an eye on him, make sure nobody bothered him. She beat up three boys in the first two months, and Neil didn't thank her, but he did ask Dad for self-defense lessons.

Neil quickly caught up with and soon surpassed Diana's GPA. They graduated together and most people thought they were twins, Neil and Diana Lacey. And Diana went to a college only an hour away, while Neil went across the country, and then he joined the army, and he hardly ever came home.

Diana understood, she really did. Neil spent six terrible years as Cameron, and he still didn't feel like he'd escaped. He sent them all postcards, a few emails, and even a couple handwritten letters.

And he called Diana, the night he left the army, and he said, "I killed four men." Diana was sure he'd killed men before, but something was different. Something had changed in his voice.

She breathed quietly into the phone and she asked, "Did they deserve it?"

"Yes," her big brother said, and hung up.

o0o

Diana moved back home, to an apartment in town, and went to work at the museum with Mom. Stevie designed computer games, Dad retired, and Neil traveled the world, doing _something_.

Mom and Dad, and even Stevie, thought he was working for the government, that he was a spook. Diana knew better, but she never asked and she never told.

And then two men grabbed her on the way home from work and took her to her old house, where her parents still lived. And they had Stevie, and three more goons, and they tied Diana and her family up, and they told Diana to cry while one of them called Neil on speakerphone.

"We found out your secret," he said into the phone. "Listen."

Instead of breaking down like Mom or demanding answers like Dad and Stevie, Diana shouted, "Stay away! Stay free!"

The big one slapped her. And they all heard Neil say, "You're dead, Cooper."

Cooper laughed and flipped the phone shut.

o0o

The five goons talked amongst themselves, and Dad calmed Mom down, and Stevie tried to communicate a plan to Diana with his eyes after the big guy slapped him for talking.

Hours passed. Diana knew Neil spent most of his time in Europe, so it might be awhile before he showed up, if he was going to at all.

She felt guilty for that that immediately. Neil had almost died saving Stevie after barely a week of being Neil again. Of course he'd come for them now.

At dawn, two of the goons collapsed simultaneously, blood and guts exploding out of them. The other two and Cooper separated, Cooper shouting, "Come out where I can see you, Arthur!"

Another goon went down, then the other, and only Cooper remained. He finally panicked, and Mom was crying and Dad praying and Stevie staring with wide eyes.

Diana was the only one who saw Neil stalk in, a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. "I warned you, Cooper," he said, and threw the knife.

Cooper died and Mom sobbed louder. Neil quickly knelt by Diana and pulled another knife to saw through the rope. He gave her the blade to deal with Stevie and materialized a set of lockpicks for their parents' cuffs.

"I'll deal with the mess," a British voice said, and Diana looked up with a gasp. The man—Neil's height but broader—nodded to her, but his eyes stayed on Neil. "You help your family, darling. I can dispose of the waste."

"Thank you, Mr. Eames," Neil said, and sank back on his haunches to look at Mom with hesitant eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly as Dad and Stevie stretched out the kinks in their arms and spines, and Diana restrained herself from hugging the life out of them all. There'd be time for that later.

She ignored Mr. Eames with a garbage bag, to focus on Mom, her tearstained face and red eyes, and the bruises and blood where she'd fought the cuffs.

"I'm sorry," Neil said again. "Mom, please."

Mom took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, and threw her arms around Neil.

"Neil," she said. "Neil, oh my baby."

Diana took that as her cue and hugged Neil and Mom both, then Dad hugged them all while Stevie asked Mr. Eames if he needed help.

"No, thank you," Mr. Eames replied. "Your brother would beat me bloody if I let you touch a body."

"Here," Neil said, pressing a note into Dad's hands. "Take them here. I'll come tomorrow and I'll explain. Everything will be taken care of, I promise." He paused, looking at them. "I'm sorry I keep ruining your lives."

"Oh, Neil," Dad said, and pulled him in for another hug.

o0o

Diana and Stevie ran upstairs to pack a quick bag for their parents. When they got back, all but two bodies had vanished into garbage bags. Neil asked Mr. Eames a question in a language Diana didn't know and Mr. Eames nodded.

Neil turned to Dad. "Follow those instructions. A quick family getaway. Everything will be taken care of, and it'll be like this never happened."

Stevie said, "You won't show up, will you." Neil ducked his head, and Stevie continued, voice bitter, "You'll just vanish again, send postcards and emails when you remember. You won't tell us why they called you Arthur or kidnapped us."

"They went after you because of me," Neil said quietly. "They know me as Arthur because that's the name I work under."

Neil looked at Diana, at Mom and Dad, then back at Stevie. "And no," he added. "I wasn't going to meet you there. I've made a deal with someone to erase all records of me, to destroy all connections to you, so no one else will come after you again." He glanced at Mr. Eames, and finished, "Neil Lacey will have never existed."

Diana yelled, "No!" She strode forward and grabbed Neil's hand, pulling him in close. "I don't want to lose you again, Neil."

He sighed, lifting their clasped hands. "It's the only way you'll be safe," he said, and pulled her in for a hug, then Mom, Dad, and Stevie, and then he backed away.

Mr. Eames leaned in and whispered, so quietly Diana barely heard it, "Arthur, are you sure?"

"Maybe in a few years," Neil said, then again, helplessly, "I'm _sorry_."

Diana stared at him for a long moment, trying to memorize his face. A decade since she last saw him, a few months before he left the army, and nobody had ever gotten the full story on that. He looked older, of course, but leaner and harder, too. Dressed in a suit, like Dad when he still went to court, except with a few drops of blood dotting him.

"You're not a spook," Diana said softly.

Neil smiled and shook his head.

"I'll see you later, son," Dad said, guiding Mom out. Stevie followed, not looking at Neil.

"If you don't visit," Diana told her big brother, "I'll track you down somehow."

Neil kissed her forehead and said, "I promise."

Diana noticed that he didn't say what he promised, but she left anyway, meeting her parents and kid brother in the driveway.

o0o

The instructions sent them to a nice hotel, telling them what name to use. They spent a week there, trying to calm down and forget. No authorities ever called about the kidnapping or the bodies, and when they went home, there was no evidence at all.

A month after, Diana received a postcard, signed _Neil&E_.

_I'll be home on my birthday_, Neil wrote. _See you then_.

But he didn't show up on his birthday. Instead he knocked on Diana's door on the anniversary of the day he saved Stevie and remembered who he truly was.

"Neil," she said, pulling him close and trying not to cry.

Mr. Eames stood to the side quietly, waiting with a smile, and he slipped his hand into Neil's, lifting them both to kiss Neil's knuckles.

"Shall we, then?" Mr. Eames asked. "I hear there's a birthday celebration waiting."

"Yeah," Diana said, wiping her eyes. "Let's go."


	7. And I am the arrow, the dew that flies

**Title**: And I am the arrow, the dew that flies

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Sylvia Plath

**Warnings**: AUish, most likely

**Pairings**: Arthur/Eames

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 590

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Inception, Arthur(/Dom or Eames), Tulpa

* * *

"Where'd you come from, Arthur?" Eames asks one night, after another job completed (three continents and a week ago). He's not quite drunk—neither of them is—and Arthur thinks about answering. Just for a moment.

"Suburbia," he says. "The army."

He doesn't say, _your dreams. everyone's dreams._

Eames wouldn't believe him, anyway.

o0o

_once there was a boy. he was a good boy, until he wasn't anymore._

_and as he was dying, the bad boy begged for a savior. for a hero of his very own, an anti-hero, someone who was strong and quick and didn't hesitate. someone like he might have been, if he hadn't been the youngest of five, three different fathers, living on the streets and in shelters._

_someone like he wanted to be once, before all he wanted was to be alive._

_with his dying breath, the boy wished very hard._

_the next day, a man who'd never been in the army walked away with thousands of dollars worth of equipment and into a life of crime._

_the boy's name had been Arthur._

o0o

"Where did you come from, Arthur?" Mal asks, curled up beside Cobb on the couch. Mal is lovely, with a bright smile and a clever mind, and sometimes she calls him _darling_. Arthur has never been anybody's darling.

He smiles at her and says, "Suburbia. Then I escaped that for the army, and you know what happened next."

She grins at him and nudges Cobb's shoulder. "Isn't he wonderful, love?"

Cobb nods. "Arthur," he says. "Would you like a job?"

o0o

_Arthur is a ghost. Arthur is a legend. no one knows where he came from, or anything about him. rumor says he was in the blackest of ops._

_rumor says he is the best. rumor says he is vicious, and dangerous, and that his mind is terrifying. rumor says he is undefeated._

_Arthur is all those things. and the belief grows stronger._

o0o

Arthur never talks about his family, or his past, or his hopes for the future. Arthur has none.

He wants for nothing. He dreams of nothing. He is strong and he is quick and he does not hesitate.

Until the day he does.

Until Eames asks, "Where'd you come from, Arthur?" and Arthur thinks about telling him.

For a moment, Arthur hesitates.

o0o

_once there was a boy._

_his name was Arthur, and he hoped, he wished, he yearned so very much…_

_there is a man._

_his name is Arthur, and he imagines about telling a thief the truth._

o0o

_I am a dream,_ Arthur thinks, watching Eames walk to the shower. _I exist because a boy was dying, and then an entire profession wanted me. I'm the ideal. I'm the legend._

_I am what you made,_ he thinks, peeling himself out the sheets. _And one day I'll cease to be because the belief will fade._

Eames presses him against the wall, bites his shoulder. Arthur closes his eyes and moans.

o0o

_Arthur was never born and he never dies. he is a legend, a myth, an ideal that all dream-walkers aspire to be._

_legend also speaks of his partner, the greatest forger ever._

_dreams can have dreams of their own, if they yearn enough._

_and Arthur… he is still the best._

o0o

"Where'd y'all come from?" the little green architect asks, eyes still shiny with excitement.

Arthur flicks a glance to Eames. Eames' lips twist in a grin and Arthur smirks when he says, "Suburbia. Then the army."

The little green architect blushes and looks down, and his belief grows stronger.


	8. If I've killed one man, I've killed two

**Title**: If I've killed one man, I've killed two

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Sylvia Plath

**Warnings**: remembered sexual child abuse; present non-con

**Pairings**: Eames/Arthur, OMC/Eames

**Rating**: R

**Wordcount**: 1450

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Inception, Arthur/Eames, "I'm leaving."

* * *

They argue all the time. Eames has said more than once it's how they show affection. Arthur disagrees, which just proves Eames' point.

o0o

It's a well-known fact that any job they're both working on will be entertaining and successful, because as much as they snipe at each other, they are amazing at planning for anything _and_ reacting quickly enough to go around whatever goes wrong.

They argue and they fight, and more than once they've left each other bloody. But they don't go to bed angry. It's one of two rules Arthur set in stone before he invited Eames to live with him (wherever he's living that day). No matter what they've been 'discussing,' no matter what's been broken or yelled in anger, they sleep in the same bed and they let go of the rage. And Eames has been thankful for that rule of Arthur's more than once. (The other, as well. Making contact at least once a week, no matter what, has saved Eames' life half a dozen times. Arthur's, too.)

So this fight… Eames doesn't think it'll be any different. A job Eames wants to work, that Arthur doesn't. an extractor they've both worked with before: Eames five years ago, Arthur three. Arthur nearly died during the job; nothing went wrong with Eames'. And while normally that history would have Eames turning down Fitz's offer, the mark is someone against whom Eames holds a mighty grudge, and Arthur's major problem is that Eames won't tell him what that grudge is.

And finally, Arthur says, "_Fine_. Take the goddamned job. But don't expect me to have your back when Fitz sticks a knife in it." He slams and locks the bedroom door, and Eames stares at the dark wood in shock.

He flips an old poker chip from one finger to the next and thinks, _Not a dream, then. Fuck_.

Eames waits, standing in the middle of the flat, for an hour. Arthur never opens the door.

o0o

The hotel bed is too big, too cold, too empty. Eames catches a flight the next day, to another hotel bed that is even bigger, even colder, far more emptier. He greets Fitz with a smile, charms the architect, who he knows by reputation, and triple-checks every fact about the job. It goes flawlessly, until the moment the mark looks at his forge (a gorgeous brunette) and smirks, and then projections are holding him place, unable to reach a weapon or fight his way out.

He hasn't spoken to Arthur in three weeks.

"Daniel," Seth attempts to purr. "_Dear_ Daniel. It's been, what, twenty years?"

A fucking trap. Twenty years after the fact. Should've known Seth wouldn't forget, either. Should've known Seth couldn't let it go.

"We're going to wake up, Daniel," Seth tells him, "and then we're going to take a trip. Get to know each other again."

Seth shoots himself in the head. The projections tear Eames apart.

Fitz is gone, of course. And the architect. And Eames tries to fight his way out.

He should have told Arthur why he hated Seth so much. Shouldn't have taken the job.

Should've called Arthur yesterday.

o0o

He hates the name Daniel. Loathes it, really. Seth is the only one to ever use it, and Eames hasn't answered to it in… twenty years.

His mother called him Danny. School mates called him Dan. The SAS called him Watson, and the illicit dreamsharing community called him Eames. Arthur calls him Eames.

And Seth… Seth calls him Daniel.

o0o

Eames wakes up tied to a chair and has no way of knowing if he's dreaming or not. Seth has his poker chip, and a smirk, and wandering hands that have gotten wrinkled since the last time Eames felt them. "You were going to come back, weren't you, Daniel?" he asks, leaning in to run the chip along Eames' jaw. "Going to, what? Break my mind wide open? Get revenge?" He laughs. It sounds like a mad scientist cackle.

This man used to be terrifying. Eames tries to beat back the childhood terror. Seth isn't so large, now. If Eames weren't restrained, if Seth didn't have three mooks in the room (and however many outside)—Eames could destroy him. Rip him apart.

If Arthur were here… together, they could kill everyone in this building and go out for lunch (or breakfast, or supper).

But Eames is restrained. And Seth does have mooks. And at the first touch of Seth's tongue, Eames is fifteen again, is ten, is eight. Is helpless and trapped and completely at Seth's mercy.

He closes his eyes and endures.

o0o

Eames sleeps and dreams of Arthur. Arthur, lightning-quick, with a sharpened, shiny blade. Arthur, smiling. Arthur, warm and pliant, head on Eames' chest, listening to his heartbeat. Arthur, muttering about how stupid American Idol is, while watching it and sometimes humming along. Arthur, covered in flour and glaring at Eames while fighting his grin.

Arthur. Eames should have called him yesterday. The day before? Stupid, useless fight. Shouldn't go to bed angry. Never know what might happen.

Arthur.

o0o

Eames still doesn't know if he's awake or not. Or even why he's here. Seth should just kill him and be done with. He must know he's dead if Eames ever gets free. (Fitz, too. Deaddeaddead, so very dead. Eames is good at that. Almost as good as Arthur.)

"I've learned about you, Daniel," Seth says, holding a glass of cold water to Eames' lips. "You're famous, now. You were good at forgery, other petty cons, right after the forces kicked you out. But what you do now?" He chuckles. "I was surprised, to be honest." He pats Eames' cheek. "Never thought you'd amount to much, Daniel. You were such a good toy."

Eames isn't eight anymore. Isn't fifteen, and a stupid kid. He's a man, a dangerous man. He knows better.

"Kill me, Daddy." Eames purrs the words, just to show Seth how it's done. "You're dead, otherwise."

Seth doesn't believe him. That's fine.

Eames doesn't believe himself, either.

o0o

He thinks he's dreaming, when Arthur kicks down the door, shoots all the mooks, and shoves a sharp, shiny blade into Seth's gut. He gently unties Eames, presses a kiss to his forehead, and helps him out of the chair.

Arthur's hands him another knife. "Can you?" he asks.

"Are you sure I'm awake?" Eames asks in reply. "I don't know anymore."

Arthur grips his hand, helping him hold the knife. "Try to forge, Eames," he says quietly. "Try to shake off the injuries. Can you?"

Eames tries. He tries so very hard. He can't remember why it didn't occur to him days ago. If he'd been smaller, he might have slipped the ropes.

He can't forge. Can't become someone else. He's trapped in his bruised, broken flesh.

He's not dreaming.

o0o

With Arthur's help, Eames kills Seth. Slowly. It's as satisfying as he'd always imagined it to be.

Better, actually, because Arthur is with him, and Arthur is wonderful at causing pain. (Eames doesn't believe he was in the American military. Or the government. Definitely the private sector. He might even ask, when they get home.)

Arthur settles him into the sleek car waiting outside, and then goes back in to clean it up.

o0o

Eames wakes up to a quick injuries assessment. "Will I live, doctor?" he slurs.

"Yes, Mr. Eames, you will," Arthur tells him, a calloused hand on his face. "You bastard. You were supposed to call a month ago."

"A week, then," Eames mutters. "I'd wondered."

Arthur's frowning. Beautifully. "Bloody hell, I missed you," Eames says. "But, didn't you swear to not save me, when Fitz stuck a knife in my back?"

Arthur's frown is replaced by an expression Eames doesn't know. He'd thought he'd seen all of Arthur's expressions, from his embarrassed smile to his _you will die now_ glare, but this one, he doesn't know. "Fitz told me about Seth Donavan," he says quietly, rubbing at his eyes. "I discovered Daniel Watson years ago, but Donavan…"

Eames looks away. "I survived." He closes his eyes, focusing on his body. A dull ache everywhere, sharper in his shoulders and the naughty bits, but nothing he hasn't felt before. The mattress beneath him is firm. His face feels clean. And he's wearing boxers he knows he left in the bedroom when he walked out a month ago.

"I missed you," he says again, looking back at Arthur. "And, you were right."

Arthur carefully lies down next to him, resting his head next to Eames' on the pillow. "I missed you, too," he says. "Go to sleep, Eames. I'll be here when you wake up."


	9. the safekept memory of a lovely thing

**Title**: the safe-kept memory of a lovely thing

**Fandom**: Inception/Harry Potter

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Sara Teasdale

**Warnings**: AU; future!fic for Harry Potter

**Pairings**: implied Arthur/Eames

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 190

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Inception/Harry Potter, anyone, extractors in the Wizarding World use Pensives rather than PASIVs

* * *

Dumbledore is one of the easiest forges Eames has ever done. Weasley seems to believe anything that comes out of the old coot's mouth, and Eames has always been good at making shit up as he goes.

Arthur's battling the horde of red-heads that are Weasley's projections and the odd map Weasley had cast aside fills up with information. Eames-as-Dumbledore tells Weasley to _run, find Harry! he needs your help!_and Weasley takes off. Eames quickly memorizes the information, murmuring the spell that'll fill in the paper in his pocket, topside.

Arthur's invention, that. He's such a handy little bugger to have around.

He leaves the approximation of Dumbledore's office, meeting Arthur in the hall. "Ready, love?" he asks, dropping the forge. Arthur nods, so Eames says the counterspell. They're tossed out of the pensive in the usual dramatic flair. Once topside, Arthur does a quick cleanup while Eames checks that the information transferred.

"Perfect," he says.

"Good," Arthur replies. "Let's get out of here."

No one tries to stop them as they leave the Ministry. Eames can barely contain his smirk. Arthur waits until they're clear to roll his eyes.


	10. there is nothing I have buried

**Title**: there is nothing I have buried that can die

**Fandom**: _Inception/Counterfeit Son_

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Adrienne Rich

**Warnings**: spoilers for film mentions of child abuse, sexual abuse, and death; disturbing imagery

**Pairings**: pre-Eames/Arthur, remembered Pop/Cameron

**Rating**: R

**Wordcount**: 1890

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: mossy

**Notes**: knowledge of _Counterfeit Son_ is not required to understand the story

* * *

Something went wrong on a training-run: the timer ran out and the kick woke them all but Arthur.

Cobb was back for his first job since the Fischer thing; Ariadne had made a beautiful palace, her first job since graduating; and Yusuf had left Mombasa again, as a favor to Eames, with the understanding that he would tell Eames about _any_ shady deals.

And Eames had taken the job for Arthur. A forger wasn't needed, but Arthur had wanted someone he trusted at his back. He hadn't admitted to anything so flighty as a bad 'feeling' about the job, but he was uneasy.

And now they'd all woken up—except Arthur.

Eames wanted to kill something. He settled for slamming Cobb into the wall; they'd been the pair on the second level. "What happened down there?" he demanded and Cobb flinched.

"I don't know!" he said. "I've never seen anything like it, Eames." He grabbed at Eames' hands and Eames tightened his grip on Cobb's shoulders.

Yusuf stayed out of reach and Ariadne said, "Eames!"

"Yusuf," Eames growled, "it was normal _somnacin_, yes?"

"I swear," Yusuf promised. "No tricks, nothing new. A normal dose."

"So then, Cobb," he said, shoving Cobb harder into the wall, "tell me _what happened_."

Cob shuddered. "A house just appeared. And some trees. The palace faded out and—" He paled. "And there were kids. Some were skeletons, and fuck, fuck—" Closing his eyes, he swallowed noisily. "He told me he'd be right behind me. He went in the house."

Eames loosened his grip. He let go and turned away, hurrying to Arthur's table. Ariadne's blueprints were spread out over Arthur's research and he shoved them aside.

"Yusuf," he ordered, "check Arthur." He flipped through Arthur's notes, looking for anything that might—

There. The mark had been abused as a child. His honorary uncle, his father's best friend. At least a year till his sister told her favorite teacher, and the man… well, he didn't go to jail. Someone killed him and the police didn't try too hard to solve that case.

Shit. Arthur had said the mark had an unhappy childhood, but no wonder he wanted someone he trusted at his back.

"What is it?" Ariadne asked.

Eames ignored her. He glared at Cobb. "You didn't recognize the house?"

Cob shook his head.

Eames paused. Arthur wouldn't have said anything. Mal knew… but she wouldn't have told Cobb without Arthur's permission.

"Fuck," he muttered.

He stalked back to the PASIV and told Yusuf, "Send me back under."

"Eames," Cobb said. "Until we know what went wrong—"

"Yusuf!" Eames ordered. Yusuf nodded and hurried over.

"Eames," Ariadne tried. "Please, wait until I—"

But he was already under again.

o0o

Arthur's mind was familiar. Their training ground was a deadly place, the hardest Eames had ever visited. Arthur's projections were vicious and clever, and Eames had never once been able to hide from them for more than ten minutes.

Until he met Arthur, Eames had thought himself the most dangerous man in the illicit dreamsharing community.

But now in Arthur's dream, there were no projections. There was an old rundown house, backed into a copse of dying trees, and a shabby collection of graves in the yard.

"Bloody hell, darling," Eames muttered.

Nothing for it, though. He walked down the dirt path between the graves, knocked on the rotten door, and waited.

o0o

Eames would never be sure exactly what happened. Arthur was truly an expert in compartmentalization, he had never once talked about those years, and the mark's history had brought it all up again…

A boy answered the door. He said, "Pop isn't home. I'm not supposed to let people in."

Eames smiled at him. "Well then, how about we have a walkabout?" The kid blinked. "I'm new to town, you see. I'm the house just beyond those trees." He nodded to the south and the kid looked over.

"I—I guess so," he stammered. "Pop says we should be neighborly."

_Yes_, Eames supposed. _People don't usually wonder what good neighbors have to hide_.

"Maybe we can get hot dogs," Eames suggested, leading the way down the path. "I'm Eames."

"Ca-Cameron," the kid said. "And I like hot dogs."

o0o

He wandered with the kid, drawing him out. Cameron liked boats and history. He also knew everything there was to know about forest ecology. When he got excited, he forgot to limp and hold his ribs.

"Well," Eames finally said. "I'll let you get home before Pop, yeah? I'll be around later to introduce myself to him."

Cameron held out a hand. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Eames."

Eames solemnly shook his hand. "You, too, Cameron."

o0o

His house to the south beyond the trees looked much like his hated childhood home. He ignored all the memories and went straight to the master bedroom, where his PASIV waited. He sent himself under again.

o0o

He woke in front of Cameron's house, this time without the graveyard. There were finally projections, though—the ones Cobb described, boys with rotting skin or very little skin at all. They all stared at him for a moment before visibly dismissing him.

All the ones still recognizable looked shockingly similar, like Cameron in the first dream. The smallest skeleton was the only one to walk over to him. "Look out for Pop," the skeleton said. "He's angry."

"What's your name?" Eames asked softly. On closer inspection, this little talkative skeleton-boy was the only one with no skin at all. "You were the first," Eames said, feeling sick.

"I'm Cameron," he replied. "The first Cameron." He sounded young, maybe seven years old. "I wasn't strong enough," he added sadly. "So Pop got a second Cameron, one that lasted." Eames closed his eyes, but Arthur wanted him to know this (or maybe, Arthur couldn't keep it in anymore), so Cameron continued, "The second Cameron was Cameron for longer than I lived. Isn't that funny?"

"Yeah," Eames said. "Do you know where the second Cameron is right now?"

All the projections pointed to the house.

"Of course," Eames said. "Fuck."

o0o

The projections watched him, but none approached as he walked up to the house. Most of them backed away. He ignored them as he knocked on the door, counting to twenty before knocking again.

He hoped Cameron would answer, but instead an average-looking man swung it open as he got to forty. Eames saw everything in a glance—blood beneath his nails and dotting his clothes, innocent _I'm just a normal man_ smile on his face, nothing noticeable or screaming _I'm evil and like to torture little boys_. Nothing except the blood.

"Can I help you?" the projection asked. "I'm in the middle of a project."

_A project_, Eames thought. _You fucker_.

Eames' favorite knife was in hand, blade shiny and sharp, and the projection's throat gaped open. None of the boys made a move as he gurgled and fell. Eames stepped over him, calling, "Cameron? Cameron, you alright?"

No answer, but the house had a single hall. He followed it to a stairway going down. A locked door proved no hardship, and a boy no more than fourteen, if that, huddled in the corner. He stared at Eames with wary eyes, and tried to squeeze into the wall when Eames stepped closer. Eames knelt down and softly said, "You know me, Cameron. Don't you? We met earlier."

"Are you one'a Pop's friends?" Cameron asked.

"No," he replied. "In fact, I killed Pop. And I'll kill 'im again, if I must. He's a monster."

Another projection of Pop stormed down the stairs, roaring filth and lies. Eames stood, turned, and emptied an entire clip of bullets into the bastard's head and neck.

Cameron gaped as Eames turned back to him. "You… you killed him," the boy whispered. He unfolded and leaned forward to rest on his knees. "You killed him!"

He looked at the body, then Eames, with wide, awe-filled eyes. He stood and took a trembling step forward. Eames caught him as he wavered, and Cameron smiled up at him.

"I know you," Cameron said.

"Yes," Eames said. "You do." He helped Cameron around the body and up the stairs and down the hall and out the door. None of the projections waited and the sky was completely clear.

Eames looked at Cameron and saw Arthur in his sharpest suit, smiling the smallest, most sincere smile Eames had ever seen on his face.

"You followed me down," he said. "And you killed Pop."

"Twice, even," Eames told him.

Arthur chuckled, and it turned into a deep, belly-aching laugh. When he finally regained control, he let himself fall backward and spread his arms in the grass. "You knew about Cameron?" he asked. "About Pop?"

"No," Eames replied, dropping down next to Arthur. "I suspected. I'd guessed you were abused, Arthur, but the degree…" He flicked a glance to where the graveyard and the dead boys had been. "You are amazing," he said.

Arthur turned his face away. "I was just a scared kid, Eames. I survived."

Eames reached down to grip his hand. "Don't downplay yourself, darling."

Arthur glanced back, a small embarrassed grin on his lips. "I was Neil Lacey," he said. "Then Pop took me and I became Cameron Miller." He paused, looking at the grass, digging his fingers into the dirt. "I became Neil Lacey again," he said. "And then I killed him, to become Arthur."

Eames shook his head, bringing his free hand up to gently caress Arthur's face. "You didn't kill Neil," he said. "Or Cameron. They're still in you. I know because of where we are."

Arthur sat up, looking past Eames to the lake. Pop's house was gone; in its place stood a welcoming, warm home and a lake with a couple of boats docked. "Oh," Arthur breathed. He lunged to his feet, pulling Eames with him. "C'mon," he said. "Let's go sailing."

They sailed until the timer ran out.

o0o

The first thing Eames did was look to Arthur: Arthur's eyes were open, he was sitting up, and he was smiling at Eames.

Eames collapsed back down with a relieved sigh, and he said, "Good news, Cobb—you won't die today."

Arthur scoffed. "Mr. Eames, you'd be mistaken if you think I'll let you kill him."

Eames smiled and chuckled. "I'm glad you're awake, darling."

o0o

No one wanted to let Arthur go anywhere alone. Since Eames had fetched him, he pulled rank and took Arthur back to his hotel.

Eames didn't ask about the dream, about Pop or Cameron or Neil. Instead he ordered room service while Arthur showered and kept up a steady stream of chatter while Arthur ate.

He paused to steal a bite of Arthur's steak and Arthur took a deep breath. He said, "I was seven."

He said, "I told them to do what he wanted and they'd be safe."

He said, "I was Cameron Miller. I'd forgotten all about Neil Lacey."

He said, "I'm tired."

Eames took his hand, kissed his forehead, and murmured, "Arthur, come to bed."

That night, he held Arthur while Arthur trembled, tears on his face. "Hush, love," Eames whispered. "Pop's dead, the house is gone, and I'll always come for you."

Arthur pressed a sleepy kiss to his neck and Eames hummed a lullaby.


	11. I made you to find me

**Title**: I made you to find me

**Fandom**: Inception/Chuck

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton

**Warnings**: AU for Chuck; pre-, post-, and during film

**Pairings**: Arthur/Eames, Ellie/Awesome

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 630

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: adoration

* * *

When Chuck was a kid, he had an imaginary friend named Bryce. Bryce was smart and funny and charming. As the years passed, Chuck made up a detailed history for Bryce. By the time he was twenty, Chuck would answer any question with a quickness he didn't even have for Ellie, his big sister.

If Bryce were real, he'd be a few inches shorter than Chuck, with dark hair and eyes bluer than the sky. He'd be as smart as Chuck, better with people, know a dozen martial arts and how to handle a gun. And he'd love Chuck. With everything in him, he'd love Chuck. He'd be as much of a geek, and they'd learn Klingon together, and it'd be perfect.

If he were real.

o0o

Chuck went from Stanford to a government program studying dreamshare. He mastered architecture and extraction, and then his instructor asked if he could forge.

Chuck looked at her and closed his eyes, imagining Bryce—from his artfully tousled hair to his shiny shoes.

Dr. Mallorie Cobb inhaled and Chuck turned to the mirror, to see Bryce Larkin looking back.

o0o

Chuck sent daily emails to Ellie. When he followed Mal into crime, he told her goodbye.

o0o

Chuck only ever forged Bryce. He studied martial arts and learned the technical aspects so Bryce could do them, but it didn't transfer into reality. Bryce was perfect at everything in a dream—point, extraction, architecture. But only in a dream.

And then Mal introduced Chuck to Arthur. And with Arthur came Eames.

o0o

Chuck didn't like to admit it, but he had fanboy tendencies. Arthur and Eames had all the coolest aspects of Bryce, but they weren't forging. They were _really that cool_. Being around them was intoxicating.

Not long after they met, though, Mal lost her mind and jumped off a building.

Chuck didn't work with either of them for awhile after that.

o0o

A few years passed. Chuck worked a couple jobs, but then he went home to Ellie and her husband. He got a job as part of the Nerd Herd at the local Buy More. Life was normal and quiet (read: boring).

He kept up with his contacts, of course. He dreamed about Bryce. And six months after Mal's husband returned to their children, Arthur broke into Chuck's apartment, dragging a bloody Eames with him.

"What the hell?" Ellie demanded, pushing her way past Devon. "Chuck, who—"

"Everyone, just keep calm," Chuck said. "Please, no one needs to get shot."

Arthur and Ellie both glared at him.

"Um, this is nice and awkward," Eames slurred, "but I am bleedin' out here, so…" He tried to pull away from Arthur and nearly fell.

Ellie looked at him. Chuck relaxed the moment he saw Arthur notice how Ellie's face softened.

"Devon, Chuck," she ordered, "get him on a bed." She turned to Arthur. "You, with me."

o0o

Together, Ellie and Devon patched Eames up enough to catch a flight. After Arthur and Eames were gone, Ellie shoved Chuck onto the couch and demanded, "_Explain_."

He told her about everything from Stanford on. She listened, then she hugged him, then she asked, "You wanted out of that life?"

"No," he answered. "I just wanted to rest. I was always going back."

She stared at him, her hands clutching his. "You'll contact me on the seventeenth of every month," she told him. "And on your birthday, my birthday, and Mother's Day. Understand? That is the only way I'll let you go."

He kissed her cheek, let Devon slap him on the back, turned in his notice to the Buy More, and went to track down Arthur and Eames.

Maybe they'd let him tag along. In dreams, he was always Bryce, and Bryce… and Bryce was just as badass as them.


	12. Your time is a flat sea

**Title**: Your time is a flat sea that doesn't stop

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton

**Warnings**: somewhat disturbing

**Pairings**: Eames/Arthur

**Rating**: PG13

**Wordcount**: 120

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Inception, Arthur, addicted to dying

* * *

He dreams alone sometimes. Fashions impossible worlds and peoples it with everyone he's ever known. He goes through and massacres entire cities, and then he turns to the hordes following him and throws wide his arms and lets Death have him.

He's jumped off mountains and out of planes. He's thrown himself into oceans. He's shot himself and been shot; he's spilled his own guts and turned into someone else's blade. He's let himself be beheaded and counted down the timer of a bomb. He's run into a fire and lit another that consumed him. He's been strangled and suffocated and tied to four horses.

He always wakes up.

If it weren't for Eames, he'd regret it every time.


	13. dreamers have no place in war

**Title**: dreamers have no place in war

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: slightly dark

**Pairings**: Arthur/Ariadne

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 285

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Inception, Ariadne/Arthur, she's not used to having enemies

* * *

People have always been fond of Ariadne. She's tiny and cute, and she knows it. Most days, she even likes it.

But she's a criminal now, and not at all a _femme fatale_. She's more like the _femme fatale_'s adorable little sister, the one that even bad guys can't bring themselves to hurt.

Eames has taught her how to work what she does have. Arthur gave her lessons about knives and guns and making every hit count, using strength against her attackers, because there was almost no way anyone smaller than her would be involved in any struggle.

All of them, even Cobb and Yusuf, have given her a list of known enemies. People to watch out for, if she's staying in this business. People they had better not catch her working with.

In this business, there are people who will kill her. Not because of anything she's done, or who she is —but because of her team. Because of Cobb, of Eames, of Saito.

Because of Arthur.

Because they are the best, and have left broken people in their wake, and she'd known Arthur was dangerous from the moment they met. But to see it writ plainly on white paper is… so final.

_This is your life now,_ Arthur told her, demonstrating the proper way to use a butter knife to gut a man. _You need to be prepared for every eventuality._

She kisses him, sometimes, and expects a blade across her throat. She wonders how long until he leaves her behind as a liability—or kills her so she doesn't become one.

Architects, even good ones, are a dime a dozen in this business, and Arthur is the best at what he does.


	14. Your kisses turbulent, unspent

**Title**: Your kisses turbulent, unspent to warm me

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Georgia Douglas Johnson

**Warnings**: takes place after movie; character death

**Pairings**: Arthur/Eames

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 385

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Author's Choice, Author's Choice, 'I want to die while you love me' (Poem by Georgia Douglas Johnson)

* * *

Eames lives with a ferocity Arthur can't help but admire. He himself has refrained from letting go for so long he's nearly forgotten what being free is like.

After the Fischer job, Eames lingers by Arthur in the airport and cajoles, "Come out with me. I've never been in the City of Angels before; show me what's fun here."

Arthur scoffs. "You were here six months ago, Mr. Eames." He smirks when he adds, "You are a bit of a demon, though."

It's not the first time they've gone out together. A couple of drinks, a light supper, and then a room for the night; in the morning, they'll go their separate ways again.

It'll be a year before they team up once more. They'll be betrayed on that job, by the architect and extractor, and Arthur will have a moment to decide between saving himself or Eames, as Eames bleeds out in the real world and Arthur has a chance to escape unburdened.

The architect will be dying while Arthur decides and he'll kill the extractor on the way out, Eames stumbling beside him, leaning heavily against him.

"Eames, Eames, stay with me," Arthur will say. "Think of all the things you haven't done yet."

Their pursuers will be close; Arthur will shove Eames shotgun of a stolen car and break all traffic laws on the way to a safe house. He'll call in half a dozen favors and Saito, leave Eames in the care of Saito's choice of physician, and not kiss him goodbye when he goes.

Arthur knows who footed the bill for the bad decision that left their profession two short; Arthur has no patience for those who are suicidal enough to hurt his loved ones.

He never has told Eames, but he's pretty sure Eames knows.

Eames will come to in a strange room with a strange woman looming over him. Once he understands, he'll curse Arthur and rant into his voicemail. He'll stay in the safe house for a week, and as the seventh day turns into the eighth, he'll realize that Arthur will never return.

"You stubborn fucker," Eames will murmur. "We coulda gone after 'em together, love."

Eames will thank Saito for the doctoring, pull out the notebook of information Arthur hid away, and follow Arthur's footsteps.


	15. Of Ground, or Air, or Ought

**Title**: Of Ground, or Air, or Ought

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Dickinson

**Warnings**: AU; crackish

**Pairings**: Arthur/Eames

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 260

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Inception, Arthur/Eames, Superhero AU

* * *

"Arthur," Dom sighs, sinking down onto the couch. "Please. Deal with that... that..." He can't even find a word to describe the villain currently headlining the news. _Villain _isn't even the right word.

Arthur's back is ramrod straight, but he won't meet Dom's eyes. "I've done all I can," he says calmly.

Yeah, that's a lie. Dom doesn't even need his mother's lasso to know it.

"Arthur," he says again.

Outside, the buffoon is clearly back, if the screaming is anything to go by. And the laughter. Goddamnit.

"Please!" Dom yells, so tired of this. "He only wants your attention, Arthur."

Arthur closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and tosses himself out the window.

0o0

A month later, Arthur returns. A man about his height follows him into Headquarters; he's broader than Arthur (and Dom, but don't mention that), and rough around the edges, and his smile is as sharp as Arthur's wit when he hasn't had enough sleep.

"Dom," Arthur says, "this is Eames. Eames, this is Dom."

"Charmed," Eames says. He adds, "I'm sure," with a different accent.

Arthur cuffs him across the back of the head. "Same shape all day, Eames," he hisses.

Eames' grin is cajoling. "But 's'boring!" he whines, in a third accent.

"And I'll make it worth your while," Arthur mutters. Dom will pretend forever he didn't hear that.

"Well," Eames says loudly, clapping his hands, back to the first accent. "Why don't you gents show me how a proper hero saves the day, yeah?"

Dom... honestly isn't sure this will be any better. Goddamnit.


	16. I waked to find this but a dream

**Title**: O how glad I waked to find this but a dream!

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Milton

**Warnings**: character death

**Pairings**: Dom/Mal, Arthur/Eames

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 640

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Inception, Cobb + children, watching them grow up

* * *

Phillipa remembers Mal; she tells her little brother fairy tales about their mother, jokes she gets half right, proverbs she rewords accidentally.

Phillipa promises Dom that she'll dream like her mother. Dom hugs her close and hopes so very hard that she won't.

0o0

James makes up stories as he grows, adventures his parents went on, reasons for why his mother left. That's what he always says; he never utters the words _dead, dying_, or _death_. That leads to confused teachers and questioning friends, but James doesn't care.

James tells Dom that one day, he'll make a name for himself, just like his mother. Dom pulls him close and hopes that he doesn't.

0o0

Arthur is present for every birthday, including Mal's. He stays for a week, usually, with lavish yet practical gifts. He frequently checks to make sure Dom and his kids are safe, and Dom knows about half a dozen times he takes matters into his own hands, leading to vanished individuals. Once, it was an entire group.

Phillipa and James both have childhood crushes on their Uncle Arthur. Dom completely understands.

0o0

Eames visits every few years, usually with Arthur. He teaches the children things Dom wishes they didn't need to know. Arthur watches with a careful eye, correcting every now and then. They teach different styles of self-defense: Arthur learned his from the military, Eames from street fighting. Both have dirty tricks, and both tell the kids to make sure whoever goes down won't get up.

Eames teaches painting, pick-pocketing, and poise. Dom isn't surprised that Phillipa and James crush on him, too.

0o0

Both of Dom's children go to college. Phillipa goes on to medical school and eventually becomes a neurologist. James graduates and then backpacks his way through Europe. He disappears somewhere in France; Arthur and Eames track him down, put the fear of God in those foolish enough to waylay him, and bring him home.

Phillipa and Dom meet them at the airport. James can't look either of them in the eye, but he clings just as tightly when they both envelope him in massive hugs.

0o0

When James calls Arthur later that same year and says, _If not you, somebody,_ Dom knows what he means. Arthur does, too, and he says, _Put your father on_.

Dom says, _I trust you, Arthur. You'll protect him. No one else would_.

0o0

Phillipa is the child Dom can brag about. She's far more successful in a way the real world understands. Phillipa marries a dream researcher, a man with no idea of what his father-in-law used to be. Who he was. She has two children, both daughters.

James is always away on business. Dom tells people that James does something with computers, something his father just can't understand. It usually works. Whenever James calls home, he talks about different 'friends'; Dom jokes that James has a lover in every port, a reference that flies over both his children's heads. James is a forger, trained by the best: Eames. He never marries, but he does have a son Dom never meets.

0o0

Phillipa does not dream like her mother. She stays firmly rooted in the real world and when her daughters learn about the history of dreamsharing, what little is known, they have no idea how much it is part of their legacy.

James makes a name for himself, eventually eclipsing his parents. At first, he trades on his teachers' reputations—Arthur and Eames are legends, the best of all dream-thieves. Soon enough, though, when people say _Cobb_, they mean James.

0o0

Phillipa outlives her father by many years. She outlives her beloved Uncles Arthur and Eames by more.

James, though… he dies young, just like his mother. Eames isn't alive to attend his funeral; he died trying to save James' life. Arthur doesn't live much longer, and Dom buries them all.


	17. I would name the stars for you

**Title**: I would name the stars for you

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Richard Siken

**Warnings**: fluffy

**Pairings**: Eames/Arthur

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 160

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Inception, Eames/Arthur, Eames has no idea when Arthur's birthday is, but that doesn't stop him from getting him a gift anyway.

* * *

Eames has done the most thorough background check imaginable, and he knows many things about Arthur no one else in the world does, but he still lacks the date on which Arthur decided to grace the world with his presence.

("Ask all you like, Mr. Eames," Arthur said, smiling down into his coffee. "I'll never tell.")

So Eames thinks for a good bit, trying to choose between 365 days for which is the best.

He finally settles on the day they met, that very first time, the one nobody else in the world knows about, when Eames stole the best operative the Americans ever had, and Arthur saved the life of the most annoying man he'd ever meet.

Arthur smiles at him, laughing at his gift, so Eames pulls him closer for the second part, and whispers into his mouth, "Happy birthday, darling."

(It'll be three more years, celebrating the day they met, before Arthur tells him he actually guessed correctly.)


	18. I wanted to believe

**Title**: I wanted to believe you would win the war in your head

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Johnette Napolitano

**Warnings**: character death

**Pairings**: implied Eames/Arthur

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 150

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Any, any, _I wanted to believe/ as you raised your glass to your last stand..._ (Suicide Note by Johnette Napolitano)

* * *

"It's been a year," he tells the chap cleaning down the bar. "A goddamn bloody year. Isn't that just mad?"

"Yeah, buddy," the bartender says. "We're closin' for the night. Anyone I can call for you?"

"No," he says, trying to slam back his whiskey; the glass is empty. "Another, mate, yeah?"

The guy shakes his head. "Sorry, buddy."

"But I need to toast 'im," he protests. "The stupid fucker. Went and got his fool self killed. My fault."

"Need help, Mike?" Another guy walked up, bigger and meaner looking.

"No, thanks," Mike said. "He's about to leave."

"Please, just one more?" he asked. "A proper toast and I'll go."

"Fine," Mike said. He refilled the glass halfway, and with Mike and his buddy watching, Eames said, "To Arthur. Saved my life, he did, and all it cost him was his own. Foolish, stubborn Arthur." He drained the whiskey down.


	19. none see God and live

**Title**: none see God and live

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Dickinson

**Warnings**: AUish; dark

**Pairings**: pre- Arthur/Eames

**Rating**: PG13

**Wordcount**: 535

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Inception, Arthur (/Eames), sometimes he can't control the happy little jump of his heart when he kills a projection

* * *

Arthur as a child was nothing like what his peers would expect. Arthur as a child was angry, bitter, and _dangerous_, to everyone and everything around him.

Arthur as a child liked dogs. And cats. People, he couldn't stand. Other children shied away from him because they could tell. Adults ignored him when they could, and punished him when they couldn't.

Arthur was disorganized, never hid what he thought, and attacked even when he had no escape plan. It wasn't until the army - which he'd been forced to join, either that or prison - that he learned self-control. Even now, that is tenuous.

(There are days, here and there, where no one can say where he was. The corpses know, but they'll never be found.)

Dreamshare is the best thing to ever happen to Arthur. He can kill and kill and _kill again _with no consequences. Projections bleed, and they cry, and they suffer, and they die – with no consequences. No one cares about projections. No one notices when they break. He's killed a thousand people in dreams.

Arthur as a child couldn't have imagined anything better. Arthur as a man knows that nothing equals killing in reality, but in the dream is good, too. Killing in the dream keeps him sated for awhile – until those days nobody can track. (Those days with no body anyone will ever find.)

After he follows Dom out of the legit dreamshare community and into the realm of rogues, life gets more exciting. Arthur can kill for reasons other people see, other people understand, other people accept. Some of the fun is lost, but mostly, Arthur doesn't care because he can kill.

Arthur as a child was dangerous. Arthur as a child was a monster in the making, and if he hadn't been sent to the army… well. He can't say he would have killed more people. Probably less, actually. The army sharpened his edges, taught him such tricks. Made him even more dangerous.

Dom doesn't know. Doesn't want to know. Mal, though. Mal used to smile at him. Her projection wore the same smile, every time she killed him.

Eames has been giving him looks, lately. Inquisitive. Studying him, in dreams and awake. Since the Fischer job, actually. Without Dom to follow, Arthur's been making (more of) a name for himself, as the go-to point man. He's thought about opening that up to killer-for-hire, but that might reveal too many of his tricks. Plus, he still gets to kill, even as a point man. No job goes flawlessly and shooting his way out of a situation is such a rush.

(Arthur's favorite dream, the one he goes to when he dreams alone, is a small town. There are five hundred people there. He has ten minutes to kill as many as possible.

His record, so far, is 335.)

Arthur as a child had little hope in seeing twenty-five. Arthur as a man is thirty-two and planning to see many more years.

Arthur as a man vanishes the day his latest job as Eames' point man is done, but leaves a trail Eames alone can follow.

Eames might be the perfect partner, or the perfect victim. It all depends on his reaction to what he finds at the end of the trail.


	20. the alliance of the ages

**Title**: the alliance of the ages

**Fandom**: Inception/White Collar/Highlander

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: AU

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG  
**Wordcount**: 235

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Inception/White Collar/Red/Highlander, Arthur + Neal as Frank's fraternal twin sons, the day they find out that Arthur and Neal are both immortal

* * *

Arthur died first, though neither of them knew it. His first death, at twenty-two, involved falling down a flight of stairs and landing wrong, snapping his neck. He woke up twelve hours later with no one the wiser, and he thought he'd only been knocked unconscious.

Neal died four months later, when one of his marks got the better of him. When he woke up, he figured he'd hit his head dodging bullets; he always hated guns after that.

Arthur and Neal didn't see each other for the better part of eight years, and when they met up again, they'd both been taught the basics. They each guessed when they actually died; both of their guesses were wrong, but no one would ever know.

When Arthur felt the approaching immortal, he moved to place his back against the wall and had his hand on his gun; he could play fair, he often chose not to.

Neal, meanwhile, acted carefree, waltzing through the airport like he owned the entire continent. Most of his kind, he'd learned, couldn't tell where the buzz came from. In the crowded building, no one would be able to pinpoint it as him.

When they saw each other, they knew. Once getting past the shock of realizing their twin had died without them knowing, both were ecstatic, because, if they played their cards right, they'd never have to die again.


	21. shaken and scarred

**Title**: shaken and scarred

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: crackish

**Pairings**: Eames/Arthur

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 80

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Inception, Arthur/Eames + Dom, "Hypothetically speaking, if someone had ... let's say, shagged your pointman silly on that sofa right there... How would this someone go about tactfully disclosing that information?"

* * *

"Hypothetically speaking," Eames drawls, flipping a poker chip through his fingers, a smirk in his voice, "if someone had ... let's say, shagged your pointman silly on that sofa right there... How would this someone go about tactfully disclosing that information?"

Dom closes his eyes, letting his head fall forward and hit the table with a dull thump. "Not like that," he mutters into the scarred wood. Shit. He'll never get that image out of his mind now.

Eames laughs.


	22. your dream moves summers inside my mind

**Title**: your dream moves summers inside my mind

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton

**Warnings**: somewhat abstract; quite weird

**Pairings**: implied Arthur/Eames

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 175

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Author's Choice, Author's Choice, _Woke up, fell out of bed/Dragged a comb across my head/Found my way downstairs and drank a cup/And looking up I noticed I was late/Found my coat and grabbed my hat/Made the bus in seconds flat/Found my way upstairs and had a smoke/And somebody spoke and I went into a dream_ (A Day In A Life)

* * *

He's instantly awake. The first thing he thinks: _it's a dream_.

The second: _Eames_.

0o0

The last thing he remembers... agreeing to work with Cobb, his first job in three years. Phil and Jimmy are staying with Mal's parents, Ariadne's joined them, Saito's footing the bill - nothing too expensive for Cobb's first extraction since he got his life back.

No one could get ahold of Eames. Not even Arthur.

0o0

Arthur goes about his usual routine, cataloging everything. The dream is flawless. Even his totem works.

The thing about totems was always bullshit anyway.

0o0

"What are you going to do, Arthur?" a projection of Cobb asks. Or maybe it's a forger.

Arthur shrugs, sipping his coffee. "What I always do," he answers. Let the fuckers chew on that. He hopes they choke on it.

0o0

The thing about Arthur is this: he's always dreaming.

The thing about Eames is this: he's the only thing that's real.

0o0

Awake or asleep, Arthur is the best.

Only Eames knows that all the world is a dream.


	23. Let us possess one world

**Title**: Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Donne

**Warnings**: implied murder/torture/violence; dark; AUish

**Pairings**: unrequited Ariadne/Arthur; Arthur/Eames

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 390

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Inception, Arthur/Eames & Arthur/Ariadne, when he told her "it's not you, it's me", he didn't mean it as a cheesy breakup line

* * *

In another world (a better world?), Arthur knows he could easily fall in love with Ariadne. She's smart, sharp, sweet... most importantly, she's competent and adaptable.

This is not another world.

0o0

In another world, Arthur would've been an architect. A building designer, not a dream designer. He'd visit his parents twice a year, tell the same old stories at family gatherings, marry and have children.

In another world, he'd be a good guy.

0o0

In another world (a better world?), Arthur wouldn't get in that fight in sophomore year. He wouldn't be shipped off to military school when the kid didn't heal right and would never walk again. Arthur wouldn't join the army, get assigned to a test project, and go rogue with almost a million dollars worth of equipment and a priceless amount of secrets.

In another world, Arthur wouldn't have quit counting his death toll (and maybe he means in dreams. maybe he doesn't.)

0o0

In another world, Arthur would never say, "Ari, it's not you, I promise. It's me."

In another world, Arthur could easily love Ariadne.

Maybe in a better world, Arthur never met Eames.

0o0

In this world, Arthur is not a good guy. Neither is Eames. In this world, Arthur only trusts one person.

In this world, when Arthur parted ways with the military, Eames met him across the world, offered him a cigarette, and said, "Darling, you're a piece of work."

In this world, Arthur grinned (still so young), and said, "You won't _believe _this shit."

In this world, Arthur turns from Ariadne to smile at Eames.

0o0

(Eames quit counting his death toll years before he met Arthur.

In another world, Eames knows he still wouldn't be a nice man.

In this world, sweet Ari has about another month of pining away before she's suddenly stopped by a bullet or knife [or maybe even his hands, been awhile since he did that], so she'd better move on quick.

Eames has no illusions about himself or Arthur. But the rest of the world insists on being fooled, and sometimes, he and Arthur go to a big city and see how many different people they can play with before being caught.

In another world, they might have been caught or never met or been enemies – but in this world, this perfect world, they haven't been caught yet.)


	24. Summer sun was on their wings

**Title**: Summer sun was on their wings, winter in their cry

**Fandom**: White Collar/Inception

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Rachel Field

**Warnings**: AU for both fandoms; dark; mentions of child abuse and non-con

**Pairings**: Arthur/Eames

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 560

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: White Collar, Neal, they really shouldn't underestimate him

* * *

Neal Caffrey is a pretty-boy. Neal Caffrey is a thief who wouldn't know what to do with a gun if his life depended on it. Neal Caffrey is the FBI's bitch, and tricked his way out of prison on his knees.

Neal Caffrey is a gorgeous mask, and the pay-off will be _glorious_.

.

"How much longer? You know the Boss hates waitin'."

Neal smiles at his contact, holding out the tiniest of disk drives. "Your Boss'll wait for _me_, Porter."

Porter glares and his fingers close into a fist, but he takes the drive.

Neal's off limits to everyone.

.

Mozzie asks him, "What's the angle here?"

Elizabeth invites him to dinner.

Peter trusts him with confidential information, his house, his dog, his wife, and his life.

.

"If I granted you one request," the Boss muses, watching Neal strip and clean their favorite gun, "you'd ask for the Burkes to be left alive."

"And unhurt," Neal clarifies. "June too, if I could get that."

The Boss nods. "Done."

.

Neal Caffrey dies in a shootout, shielding one of his team members. He gets a hero's funeral.

Peter and Elizabeth Burke cry in each other's arms for days.

.

"You ready?" the Boss asks. "You've been out of the game for awhile."

"C'mon, _Arthur_," one of the best undercover men in the world says. "You need better people at your side."

"Hey, now," the Boss's lover and right-hand exclaims. "I'll have you know, I take wonderful care of 'im."

"Eames," the Boss says.

He subsides, glaring, and the Boss asks, "What name would you like now?"

Smirking at Eames, he says, "Nathaniel, I think."

The Boss nods.

.

Nathaniel Calton is one of the greatest assassins in the world. It doesn't matter what the job calls for; he excels. The Boss trusts him, and everyone is too afraid to ask why.

.

_"What should we be when we grow up?" Noah asks Aidan, as they're curled up together beneath the covers, all of seven and shivering. Daddy is still throwing things downstairs. Mama's gone again._

_"I'm gonna rule the world and make sure no one hurts us ever again," Aidan says, listening to his brother breathe. "And you're gonna be my secret weapon."_

_"That sounds nice," Noah whispers, hissing in pain when Aidan accidentally shifts his arm._

_"It'll happen," Aidan promises. "I swear."_

_His twin nods. "It will."_

.

The Boss says, "Well done, lil'brother."

He nods, grins, and offers the Boss his knife, so the Boss can take out his own pound of flesh.

Eames mutters, "Darling, this should _not _be as hot as it is," and he gets identical, blood-soaked smiles in response.

The traitor screams louder and louder, until the Boss finally shuts him up with a cleverly-turned slice.

.

No one knows where the Boss came from. His lover, a forger and con-man called Eames, was small-time until the Boss took a liking to him. (He's actually ex-military, and just as dangerous as the Boss, but only a handful of people in the world know that, so keep it to yourself.) And the Boss's favorite assassin, well.

A few of the more trusted lieutenants notice that the Boss and his pet killer have the same grace, the same turn of phrase, the same grin when they kill. But they never mention it, so the Boss and Nathaniel let them live.

(For now.)


	25. When the fox hears the rabbit scream

**Title**: When the fox hears the rabbit scream

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from _Hannibal_

**Warnings**: dark; maybe a bit AUish?

**Pairings**: Arthur/Eames

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 655

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Any, any/any,

_Tryin' to live and love__  
__With a heart that can't be broken__  
__Is like tryin' to see the light__  
__With eyes that can't be opened__  
__Yeah, we both carry baggage__  
__We picked up on our way__  
__So if you love me, do it gently__  
__And I will do the same_  
(Glass, Thompson Square)

* * *

By the time he meets the man who will be Eames, at the ancient age of twenty-one, the man who will be Arthur has killed nearly fifty men.

By time the best point man in the business is introduced to the greatest forger in the world, that number has tripled.

(Before he was a point man, Arthur had been an assassin. Before he was an assassin, [name redacted] had been in black-ops. Before he was in black-ops, there had been extenuating circumstances involving a father who owed people, a mother who was never there, and traveling around a lot. And if men happened to vanish wherever Dad stopped to hide for awhile, well. Who ever thinks a kid could've done it?

The man who would be Arthur had never been a child.)

Eames smiles at him, slow and sweet, and says, "Aren't you a peach."

Arthur raises an eyebrow, replying, "I assure you, I am not."

(Like recognizes like, after all. A predator always knows a predator.)

Cobb thought he was saving a kid who'd gotten in over his head. The man who would be Arthur has always looked young and innocent. And Cobb didn't believe in what the military was doing. So when he and his wife ran from Project Somnus for safety beneath Miles' power in the scientific community, he brought a soldier with him.

Or, well, he _thought _he brought a soldier with him. What he brought was [name redacted] who became Arthur three days later, when he dreamed up the perfect companion in Limbo.

(_Ah, Limbo_, he whispered, _how I have missed you_.)

(In the seedy underbelly of London, about to burst on the world stage of crime, a man opens his eyes after sleeping for days, trapped in Limbo, and he murmurs, _See you soon, love_.)

An assassin, a forger, and a thief. One of these things is not like the other, but the man who will be Eames in just a few more months never cared. His father taught him to lie, and his mother to paint, and when he double-crossed the crime lord in charge of his home town, he ended up on the wrong side of a dozen powerful men, but walked out unscathed, leaving corpses in his wake. He could've taken over.

Instead he joined up with an experimental program and learned to dream like he never had before, and when he wondered what he could change, he ended up changing himself into something new.

And he fell into Limbo, where he fashioned the most perfect companion, and he opened his eyes when it should've been impossible, and he smiled at the doctor who'd been bought by men who wanted him dead, and left a few more corpses in his wake.

There is no recorded survivor from the massacre of Project Somnia. And the authorities never did find whoever was responsible.

By the time they knew to look, he was on the ground in Mombassa and tracking down a chemist most of the medical community had written off.

Eames was born on his first job as a dream forger.

It wasn't until he met Arthur, months later, when he truly breathed for the first time.

(Like recognizes like.)

(_I dreamed of you_, Eames whispers, back to back with Arthur admist bullets and screams.

_I called you,_ Arthur murmurs, throwing a knife and hitting some poor bastard in the eye.

Limbo made them, and the world will recoil from them, and Eames grins at Arthur, and Arthur smirks at Eames, and oh, what fun they'll have.)

If asked, anyone in dreamsharing will say that the best are Arthur and Eames.

If asked a different question, anyone in dreamsharing will say, _Be careful. There's something – off about them_.

Cobb will never believe it, but Saito and Yusuf see it, and if she lasts, Ariadne will, too.

(Whenever they dream together, Arthur and Eames fall into Limbo and play blood-filled, exhilarating games.)


	26. These children of the sun

**Title**: These children of the sun

**Fandom**: Chuck/Inception/White Collar

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from John Clare

**Warnings**: AU for White Collar; mentions of character death

**Pairings**: Arthur/Eames, past Bryce/Chuck, implied Neal/Peter

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 450

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Chuck/Inception/White Collar, Chuck + Arthur, (Arthur and Bryce!Neal are brothers) Arthur doesn't know anything about Chuck except that Bryce/Neal fell in love with him in college, he's a spy like Arthur's brother, and he was there when Bryce/Neal died. Arthur tracks him down but their meeting doesn't go like Arthur expected.

* * *

Arthur gives out his notice responsibly before disappearing: he lets everyone know he'll be out of contact for at least a month, and won't even be accepting calls for emergencies. He's taking personal time, and _will not be bothered_, and that includes Eames.

(Eames doesn't care about that. He shadows Arthur, and Arthur knows it.)

Arthur used to be named Aidan, and his brother is missing-presumed-dead. Brendan-became-Bryce-became-Neal-went-back-to-being-Bryce and fucking _died_, and Arthur wants to know why. He _needs _to know why.

And Chuck, that silly little boy Bryce fell in love with and Neal couldn't forget, was there. He was _there _when Brendan died, and Arthur will learn everything he knows, no matter what it takes.

Brendan wouldn't want Chuck to come to harm, but Brendan's fucking _dead_, so he gets no say at all.

.

Chuck's a spy, like Bryce. He's also a geek, and a dork, and so _nice_it burns. Arthur's not used to nice. (Also, he can hear Eames laughing.)

Chuck's earnest, and after he stares at Arthur for a long, awkward moment (and the gun Arthur's holding), he slumps down, and he says, "I am so sorry," and the damnedest thing is, Arthur believes him.

.

So, Chuck is actually a spy with a computer in his head (Bryce's fault) and he knows far too many things about Arthur for Arthur to be comfortable with. But he won't use the information against Arthur, because (for some insane reason) he thinks Arthur's a good guy. (Eames is laughing again.)

"He talked about you, sometimes," Chuck tells him. "He missed you."

Arthur says nothing, but his hand is not on his gun.

.

When Chuck's keepers come to his rescue (Arthur is not impressed, and Eames makes half a dozen snarky remarks before they've even cleared LA), Arthur is long gone.

He doesn't have his brother's body, but he knows exactly how and why Brendan died.

Chuck is still alive, because it would've have made Brendan's death worthless if he wasn't.

.

Arthur finishes out his month of vacation in New York. Burke is completely different from Chuck, but Arthur likes him a bit more, and Eames has fun finding and replacing his favorite pieces at the Met.

Finally, as the month draws to a close, Eames pulls Arthur into his arms and asks softly, "Will you tell me about him?"

Aidan and Brendan are both dead. But Arthur almost sees them, young and fierce and strong, as he tells Eames things no one has ever heard before.

.

(Casey is annoyed, and Sarah furious, but Chuck never does explain what happened in those four hours he was off-grid.

He's alive. Because he knew Bryce so well, he knows what that means.)


	27. such pleasure be in things

Title: such pleasure be in things to us forbidden

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton

Warnings: dark mentions of violence/character death

Pairings: Arthur/Eames

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 140

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, the one who _thinks_ he/she is taking advantage and the one who actually is

* * *

One day, Eames knows, one of them will turn on the other, and it'll be a blaze of glory and blood and bullets (and, more than likely, a blade), and then one (or both) of them will be dead, spread prone on the ground, eyes staring.

It will be beautiful. It will be devastating.

It will be _amazing_.

.

One day, Arthur knows, Eames will try to pull a fast-one on him. It's simply Eames' nature; he goes with the strongest, and he must always test just who _is _the strongest.

One day, Arthur knows, Eames will wonder if Arthur has grown weak or complacent.

Because Arthur knows this, he will see it coming, make adjustments to whatever he has going at the time, and beat Eames into the ground.

It will be beautiful. It will be electrifying.

It will be _fun_.


	28. goodness is no name

Title: goodness is no name, and happiness no dream

Fandom: White Collar/Inception(/Rock n Rolla)

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Byron

Warnings: mentions of bad things happening to children; some violence; AU for Neal's backstory; possibly a threesome

Pairings: Arthur/Eames (+ Neal)

Rating: PG13

Point of view: third

Wordcount: 850

Prompt: any, any, Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one.

* * *

Neal Caffrey can blend in anywhere. He can pull on accents like they're hats, he can laugh with strangers, he can insert himself into a party and it's like he's never been gone.

Back when he was a thief, he had contacts, friends, allies. Moz, and Kate, Alex - and even Vincent.

Now that he catches thieves, he has Peter and El, June, Diana and Jones and even Hughes. Various and sundry FBI agents who like him as a person, even if they hate what he used to do.

(Oh, he's not kidding anyone. He's still a thief. He'll always be a thief. He's not ashamed, and he's not sorry, no matter how much it will hurt Peter.

And it will. It'll hurt Peter _so much_.)

Neal is undercover for the FBI as an arms' dealer, and Peter wishes he wasn't because this isn't Peter's operation, this isn't at all white collar – these people are into extortion and human trafficking and killing. And Neal is wearing his Noah Lasik ID, even though the FBI gave him a different name and background, and it's different than that assassin he wore, with Sara.

Noah Lasik is someone Peter has never met. The FBI has never seen. He's dark and cruel; he's dangerous and electrifying. He's killed eighteen people in five countries. Neal slides into Noah like he never left, and he meets Peter's eyes with a smirk.

It all goes swimmingly until Noah's introduced to Daniel Robertson, and Robertson gets too close, and Robertson stays in his space, and Noah's new boss really takes offense to that (Noah isn't sure if he's jealous of them, or which one he'd be jealous of), but either way, it results in a shoot-out and when the smoke clears, Robertson is still at his back and everyone else is dead.

Noah mutters, "Shit."

His brother's boyfriend (lover? partner? – whatever) _Eames _laughs.

(Noah is not the name he was given at birth. He has no idea what it was. His brother wasn't born _Arthur_ either. Neal is one of his favorite names; back when he was Noah, oceans of blood ago, Arthur went by _Aiden_.

And, no. No records connect them at all. Keep looking.)

There is no going back, not after so many men died. Neal can't brush it under the carpet and bluff his way out. Peter can't ignore it.

The smoke clears, and Noah Lasik and Daniel Robertson are gone. Gone like they'd never been, except for the bodies littering the ground and a single line of text on a scrap of paper – _Goodbye, Peter. Give June and El a kiss from me_.

Peter uses everything at his disposal, but when he gets back to New York, Moz is gone, too.

If they ever catch Neal again, he'll be locked away for a long time.

They'll never catch Neal unless he lets them.

(Ned Lafferty saunters into his brother's apartment in Bordeaux, and his brother's Eames follows with a stolen bottle of wine in hand.

"Looking good, kid," Ned says, giving him a quick, strong hug.

"You, too," Arthur says, pulling back to look him over and make sure.)

Neal Caffrey never surfaces. Peter tries to forget him, and El and June have weekly lunches, and life moves on.

It isn't until the white collar unit widens to include dreamtheft that Peter even catches a glimpse of Neal – going by Nate Wesson, and teamed up with some of the best in the business.

Nate Wesson isn't someone Peter knows, doesn't even seem to be someone Peter would like. He's more similar to Noah Lasik than Neal Caffrey.

But Peter can dream.

(Noah and Aiden, they had been something else. Two kids who found each other on the streets, scared and scarred, bloodied and bruised.

Noah, with his pretty face; Aiden, with his clever hands. They shouldn't have survived. Sure as hell shouldn't have thrived.

But they grew up, and they grew strong, and nothing is beyond them now.)

Neal Caffrey didn't really have friends. He had acquaintances, and marks, and people indebted to him. He had a keeper. He had i_masters/i_, and Neal Caffrey really hated to be owned.

He hated being bound and shackled and caged. He was always leaving New York.

Peter can say whatever he wants, but he and Neal were never friends. And while he might suspect it, and forbid himself from crying about it. El in his arms and his face buried in her neck, Peter will never admit to anyone that he wonders.

(When they're alone, just the three of them, Nate and Arthur and Eames call each other names no one else knows – Noah, and Aiden, and Bobby.

None of them have friends, really. Friends come and go. So does family.

What they have is scars and blood and dreams, nightmares and so many dead.

What they have is forever, and nobody will ever take it away.

They sleep in each other's' arms, the three of them so close it's like they're one person, and tomorrow, Peter Burke will go through another file and wish he'd held on tighter.)


	29. how hard the wind was blowing that day

Title: how hard the wind was blowing that day

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Ruark

Warnings: mentions of violence

Pairings: Arthur/Eames

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 360

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any/any, you don't need to agree with your partner about the things you love when you simply coincide in the things you both _hate_

* * *

In the beginning, Arthur was a soldier betrayed by his country and Eames was a thief betrayed by his employer.

It wasn't so much them liking each other as wanting to kill everyone else.

.

Arthur saves Eames' life on his way into hiding. It was an accident more than anything else, but Eames _is _loyal when given a reason to be.

And at the moment? When an American soldier takes time out of his busy schedule to put a bullet into the brain of the killer-for-hire about to put a bullet into _Eames' _brain?

Well, everyone else in the world has turned on Eames, so he turns on them right back and follows Arthur.

.

It's three years before Eames introduces Arthur to Mal. By that point in time, Eames and Arthur have spent thirty-five of the past thirty-six months arguing, half of it fucking, and a lot of it training so they can cover each other's weak spots.

They didn't get along at all in the beginning, with Arthur considering just killing Eames most of the time, and Eames wondering if the protection was worth the aggravation.

But. When they're not fighting, Eames makes Arthur laugh like no one else ever has. And Arthur manages what Eames' father never did – teaches Eames to kick ass.

.

When Mal dies and Arthur goes with Dom to protect the father of Mal's children, Eames goes into a form of hiding.

The rest of the world can't find him, but Arthur always can.

.

No one ever believes the story of how they met.

Of course, every version they tell is a lie.

No one ever believes they're anything more than colleagues who can work together for a common goal, either.

And they've never hated each other, even back in the beginning, when Arthur asked daily why the fuck he'd even bothered to save Eames' life.

Every time Arthur muffles his laughter at Eames' joke or comment or snark, Eames knows it's Arthur's way of saying, _I'm glad I killed that fucker that day._

And every time Eames says something sarcastic about Arthur's ideas, Arthur knows it's Eames' way of saying, _I'll follow you anywhere._


	30. King of the heavens

Title: King of the heavens before there was time

Fandom: Inception/Arthurian legend/mythology/fantasy

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Twila Paris

Warnings: reincarnation

Pairings: Eames/Arthur

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 365

Point of view: third

Prompt: Inception, Arthur/Eames, "Kill me again."

* * *

The first time Arthur met Eames, he looked him in right in the eyes, smirked, and said, "Fancy meeting you here."

"Oh, I know, darling," Eames replied, smirking right back. "It's a bit ironic."

Dom glanced from one to the other. "You've met?" he asked, surprised. Arthur was brand-new to the business, and Eames one of the first well-known names.

"Yes," Arthur said shortly, turning to look at Dom. "Can we get to it, please? I do have other commitments."

Eames smirked at his back, the only person in the world who understood what a tremendous show of trust that was.

He'd never betray it. He never had in fifteen thousand years, and he wouldn't now. Not even for the world.

.

The first time Artúr met Emrys, he looked him right in the eye and demanded, "Have you come to curse me?"

Emrys had laughed and Artúr's companions pulled back in fear. "Never, my king," swore the most feared demon in three realms.

.

The first time a bright soul met a dark wind, promises were made that only the most powerful of beings could keep.

The bright soul died, as bright souls always do, and the dark wind began the cycle.

For reasons Arthur will never explain, he trusts Eames the way he trusts no other.

For reasons Eames doesn't care to explain, he protects Arthur the way he protects no other – unless asked by Arthur.

Sometimes, Arthur dreams of lives he never lived, places he's never been, people he's never known.

The one constant is Eames.

.

Fifteen thousand years ago, a little boy fell down a hole. A monster found him, kept him warm, and returned him to daylight, something it had never done before or would again.

The boy hugged him and thanked him before running back to his family.

The monster followed, entranced.

The little boy grew into a mighty hunter and warrior, and the monster was always beside him, and when the man died, the monster wove a dangerous spell.

.

Each life, the dark wind remembers.

Each life, the bright soul wonders.

Every time, Arthur meets Eames' eyes with a smile and trusts him. He hasn't regretted it yet.


	31. families of choice

Title: families of choice

Fandom: Glee/RED/White Collar/Inception

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: mentions of bullying; AU

Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, implied unrequited Neal/Peter, Frank/Sarah, Burt/Carole, Victoria/Ivan

Rating: PG  
Wordcount: 198

Point of view: third

Prompt: Glee/R.E.D./White Collar/Inception, Burt and son(s) + Frank and sons (Neal and Arthur), They were "co-workers" when they were young, now they're neighbors; no one understands their style of parenting better than each other.

* * *

"Pour the tea," Kurt orders imperiously. Neal hides his grin and does. Arthur doesn't scowl, though Neal can tell he wants to.

The kid is just too cute, though.

.

Arthur wants to kick the asses of everyone at McKinley during Kurt's freshman year, and Neal wants to frame them for various horrific crimes, and Uncle Burt and Dad have both have to control each other so that McKinley doesn't catch fire and explode.

.

Neal and Arthur are both gone (to New York and the army) when things get really bad. Arthur's about to vanish into black ops and Neal's on the verge of something big, and Kurt doesn't call anyone for help, not his dad or Uncle Frank or Neal&Arthur.

He calls Blaine.

.

"That kid'a yours," Frank says at Thanksgiving, "he's a handful, Burt."

Burt snorts. "And those boys'a yours, Frank?" he chuckles.

Marvin, Victoria, and Joe laugh. Carole and Ivan are discussing music while Kurt (with Blaine beside him) lectures Sarah on the proper colors for her skintone. Arthur's impressing Finn and Sam with some of his training and Neal's subtly checking his phone to see if Moz is keeping eyes on Peter as promised.

Life's good.


	32. the dream was marvelous

Title: the dream was marvelous but the terror was great

Fandom: White Collar/Inception/RED

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Gilgamesh

Warnings: pre-canon for all three; mentions of blood/injury

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 410

Point of view: third

Prompt: any. any. First time in real trouble

* * *

Arthur is out of contact due to some sort of military hullaballoo, and Neal really doesn't want to call his dad. Dad's going to be disappointed - whether for the fuck up (which is imajor/i or for the criminality, Neal's not sure, but he is definitely going to be disappointed - but Neal has to call him.

His arm is burning, and still sluggishly bleeding, and Neal's tucked into a corner, phone in his hand, Dad's number keyed in, waiting for Neal to hit call.

He has to hit call. If he calls Arthur instead, Arthur's military career is shot (_shot_, hah) and Neal doesn't want to ruin his brother's life. Not any more than he did in high-school, when he got them both suspended for a week, or that time in junior high, when Arthur got a month's detention for beating the shit out of Drake Whitman for stealing Neal's sketchbook, or even back in elementary, when Arthur terrified the entire fourth grade into leaving Neal alone after his panic attack at the pep rally.

Arthur has always taken care of Neal, and what has Neal given him in return? Trouble. So much fucking trouble. Neal can't ruin his life anymore.

So he hits call and holds the phone up to his ear, and when Dad grouches into the phone, "Been a long time, kiddo," Neal mumbles, "Dad, I fucked up."

The words are slurred and his eyes keep slipping shut, and Dad barks, "Neal Francis Moses, you answer me, boy. Where are you?"

Neal tells him, as best he can remember, and then he says, "Dad, I'm cold."

"Don't worry, I got backup close to you, Neal," Dad tells him. "Just hold on, I'll be there soon."

"Let Artie know I'm sorry," Neal mutters, head thunking back against the wall. "I never meant to ruin 'is life."

"Neal!" Dad shouts, but Neal can't answer, can't open his eyes, can't –

.

Neal wakes up in a hospital under a name that isn't his, Dad slumped in the chair beside him and Arthur quietly threatening a doctor until the man runs from the room.

Arthur immediately focuses on Neal and Dad sits up, and after they've thoroughly chewed him out, Uncle Marvin and Auntie Tori slink in and have _their_ turns.

And after _that_, Arthur rests his forehead against Neal's and just breathes, and Neal cups the back of Arthur's head in his un-IV'd hand and holds on.


	33. first run

Title: first run

Fandom: White Collar/Inception

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: none

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
Wordcount: 95

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, so this is what you do for a living?

* * *

"So this is what you do for a living?" Neal asks, dodging another projection as they run down the hall.

"Yes, Neal," Arthur bites out, spinning around to spray the hall with bullets.

Neal flips over a projection, knifing it as he lands, and Arthur throws him a gun that he throws right back.

"Now isn't the time to be squeamish!" his brother shouts, adding, "Duck!"

Neal ducks, promising to not mock Arthur's criminal tendencies as being far too messy for... at least a week, once they're safely back in the real world .


	34. The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

Title: The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: AU; character death; mentions of violence

Pairings: Arthur/Eames

Rating: PG13

Wordcount: 980

Point of view: third

Prompt: Author's choice, author's choice, _Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose_

* * *

"So," the smirking tribute from District 3 asks, "what'd you do to end up here?"

Arthur shrugs. "Better me than someone with a family to mourn."

"No," his companion says, glancing over, eyes flashing in the firelight. "Better no one at all."

In the morning, one of them will have to die.

.

The other tribute from District 8 was a little girl named Rosalie. Arthur did what he could for her; her twelfth birthday was only a month before the Reaping. Arthur knows because she cried about in his arms on the train and he held her until she fell asleep.

Arthur is two months away from nineteen. He's good with a knife, but better with a gun, and he promised himself, watching the fat judges watch him with unimpressed eyes, that he wouldn't go down easy. He doesn't expect to win; no one except the Careers _expect_ to win. But he'll decide who gets to kill him.

Rosalie dies first, of course, at the Cornucopia. "Rose," Arthur had shouted, moving backwards. "C'mon!" He'd looked past her, to a smirking Career, and he'd _known_ -

Arthur cursed and turned to run into the woods. That night, he snuck into the Careers' camp and stuck a knife in the bastard who killed Rosalie's eye.

That was the first time he saw the tribute from District 3, smirking. The boy inclined his head and didn't raise the alarm as Arthur melted back into the night.

.

Arthur has no family. Back home, he'd work and then he'd sleep, having left school when he was fourteen. His mother worked herself to death and he never knew his father; his older sister died in the Games six years ago. She hadn't even fought to live, just as tired as Arthur is.

But Arthur's anger is stronger than his weariness and when he wasn't sleeping or working, he researched. He knows how every winner in the past thirty years won. He knows wilderness survival, battle tactics, and how to throw a knife. It's all theoretical, yes, but that's better than some of the children here.

And they _are_ children. Only one younger than fourteen is left, and Arthur spends three days shadowing her, killing two of the older ones who go after her.

He wonders what the audience thinks. Decides he doesn't care. He's giving them a show, after all. The fuckers.

.

"I can honestly admit," the boy says, "that I knew this would happen."

He's Arthur's age, but with a bit more muscle. Arthur hasn't had enough to eat in years. "That first night," he continues, "when you brazenly came into our camp." He laughs. "They were all in tizzy that morning."

He's holding a spear; Arthur's got a knife. There's one pack of food left, and them. That's it for this Game.

"Let's share and fight it out in the morning, yeah?" he offers, spear pointed at the ground.

Arthur nods. The boy smiles, holding out a hand. "I'm Eames."

"Arthur," Arthur says, clasping his hand.

.

Eames is half a year away from nineteen. He's got two younger sisters and a mother. He volunteered when his sister's name was called. Like Arthur, he was given a low rating and expected to die early on.

"Like I'd give them the satisfaction," he hissed, and Arthur nodded.

"They want a show," Arthur murmurs, watching Eames glut himself on the remaining supplies.

"Oh, yes," Eames says. "A brutal fight to the death and what-all." His grin is razor-sharp and cold. "I have a better idea." He lowers his head, flicks his eyes to the bush a few feet away.

Arthur smiles.

They want a show. Entertainment. Twenty-two children have died for it, die every year for it.

"Will they go after your family?" he asks.

Eames shrugs. "It's possible. But they'd understand, I think, and I know that I couldn't – " He bites off the words. "I've done horrible things in here."

There is nothing back home for Arthur. And if the only one he'd allow to kill him doesn't want to…

"I'll see you in the morning," Eames says.

"Good night," Arthur whispers.

They curl up with each other and it's the best sleep Arthur has gotten since his mother died.

.

In the morning, Eames plucks the berries from the bush. "Let's have a treat afore we fight, yeah?" he says brightly.

Arthur smiles. "Sounds like a wonderful idea," he adds.

After all, both of them are from urban districts. What do they know about surviving in the wild? Absolutely nothing.

"What will you do, if you win?" Eames asks him.

Arthur drops his berries into his mash, stirring them in. "Take a long, luxurious bath, I think," he says. "Read for days, until my eyes hurt too much to keep on. You?"

"I like the thought of a bath," Eames muses, dropping the berries one by one into his mouth.

Arthur wonders if anyone has caught on yet. They all have to be watching. Only two left – this is what they've all been waiting for.

"What are your sisters' names?" he asks. "Mine was Amalie." He thinks that might be why he tried to save Rosalie – they even had the same color eyes, the same exact shade of dark chocolate.

"Evie, she's fourteen," Eames says. "Etta is only ten." He smiles, dropping one more berry in his mouth. "If I win, they'll be safe from this place forever."

Arthur's smile is as bittersweet as the berries flavoring the mash he just finished. "Their children won't be," he says. "Or yours." He starts shuddering; fire is building in his stomach. Tears are leaking out of Eames' eyes.

Eames leans over, presses his mouth to Arthur's. "I'd've let you kill me, you know," he mumbles, as they both go tumbling down.

Yeah, Arthur knows that. His tongue isn't working right, or he'd tell Eames so.


End file.
